


A Truly Respectable Hobbit

by SilverLiner



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Fear, Female Bilbo, Hurt Bilbo Baggins, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Overprotective Dwarves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2018-09-19 13:39:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9443501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverLiner/pseuds/SilverLiner
Summary: Bilba Baggins was a very respectable young hobbit. She loved the ground she stood on and the life that grew from it. She could even bake one of the best cakes in the Shire.Although Bilba had every right to claim to be one of the most respectable hobbits in Hobbiton, she supposed that, in her current position, a few of her relatives may scoff. For Bilba Baggins was living with orcs.Maybe saying she was kidnapped was more of an accurate description.





	1. The Protector

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!  
> This Is the first story I've written on here so I'm slightly nervous about posting this!!  
> I hope you like it; any (and every) comment is welcome.

Bilba Baggins was a very respectable young hobbit. She loved the ground she stood on and the life that grew from it. She could even bake a sponge so light that any hobbit that had tried it, believed it was blessed by the Green Lady herself.

Although Bilba had every right to claim to be one of the most respectable hobbits in Hobbiton, she supposed that in her current position a few of her relatives may scoff. For Bilba Baggins was living with orcs.

Living was perhaps too strong of a word. She was lying on her side with her arms tied, lying limply in front of her. She was dressed in the torn, bloody clothing she was taken in, making her feel awfully grubby. These factors made it known to her, and those surrounding her, that they were not honoured guests, but prisoners. Of course, the way that they were treated was a strong clue too. She had been taking her monthly trip to Bree, an expedition which was surprisingly well accepted by her Baggins relatives, as they believed it to help dampen her Tookish spirit without harming her reputation, when she was taken. She had fought and fought against the claws that had her in a vice like grip, but it was all in vain. She was dragged to a camp filled with vile faces which kicked and spat at her as her cackling captor threw her into a huddle of bodies.

That was six months ago now.

She still remembered the young boy that had whispered in her ear, gently, as she sobbed. He told her he was the oldest there and he was watching out for them. When she had looked into the boy's kindly face, she could tell he wasn’t. She was now the oldest, by many years in fact. For surrounding her were children of dwarven born and men. Orcs clearly had no experience with the race of hobbits, for anyone with eyes could tell she was an adult, despite being short in nature. She promised the boy firmly that she would protect them now, she would save them, for she was now the oldest.

The boy was killed today. He was only fifteen and his name was Oswin and he should not have died.

She had watched many children die these last few months and each one felt like a stab to her fractured heart. But, Oswin, despite him being so very young, was the eldest of the children at sixteen, and had felt much more like a peer than the others. Bilba felt horribly selfish and wretched in wishing, that out of all of them he hadn't have died. He had been kind, pure and helped Bilba look after the smallest of their numbers and he should not have died.

He should not have died.

Her eyes stared blankly at the movement in the camp, the orcs were ripping madly at the raw meat which once belonged to some poor animal, and Bilba was just glad it was not a person this time. A fight for the most food was probably going to break out soon. Suddenly, her vision was obscured by a pair of short legs and they bent so the owner of them could crouch beside her head. She could not bring herself to react, her mind too numb to make the effort. Gentle fingers wiped the tears she had unknowingly shed, and she blinked up at a worried face.  
“Leave me, Kili.” she whispered, hoarsely.

The young dwarf had joined them one month ago and, like every child that had been taken, had lost much of his joy very early on. At the beginning he told us all many times that his family would find them, that we’d all be saved. Now, after many forced trips across difficult terrain, punishment and near starvation, his smile had faded. No matter how much she tried with them, she could never get the children to keep their smiles.

“No.” He replied, stubbornly.

She looked at him weakly, shame swirling in her mind, taunting her. She knew she was letting them down. She had vowed on her first day to be strong for the young faces that had looked upon her with such hope when they had learned that Bilba was an adult. For adults, would always fix things, for that’s what they had been told all of their lives.

Before she could respond to him, Kili had already grasped her tied hands in his and was pulling on them and, despite her wounds, they managed to get her into a sitting position, with surprisingly little difficulty. Being so close to each other allowed Bilba to see that his once lively and youthful face was marred with scars, dirt and a very serious look. She averted her gaze with shame.

“You must stay strong Bilba. I know I didn't know Oswin for long, but I know he would not want you to give up.” he told her, passionately. When she could only blink, tiredly up at him, mind numb, his face fell. He lowered his voice further, “Please Bilba. I need you,” he glanced behind her, gesturing subtly, “They need you.”

Bilba turned and saw many of the children were worriedly staring at her. She knew each one of those faces and, despite not knowing them for long, she had adopted each and every one of them into her heart. She had bled for each child there. Taken punishments for them, helped them with whatever horrid job they had been forced to partake in that day. She loved them and now she felt like she was failing them. She raised her head to meet his sorrow filled eyes and she nodded slowly.

“I’m trying Kili” she said, softly. The smile she received was bright and warm, like the sun she remembered from the Shire. It was gone quickly, though, as if his smile had remembered where they were, and she so desperately wished for it to return. He carefully wound his arms around her, wary of her wounds and helped her to her feet. She turned and shuffled closer to her herd of fauntlings and smiled softly when they surged forward to engulf her in a hug. The hug was not gentle though, and she tried not to show the pain on her face, but she found it difficult when all manner of body sizes piled on to her small one. She kept a wary eye on the orcs and was thankful that they were still squabbling about their dinner. Their disgusting attempt at meals were the only moment of peace they had.

The children were whispering amongst themselves, relieved that their 'protector' was back with them. Her smile slowly dropped as they got louder and louder and now her face only showed worry. She tried hushing them, but their volume would not stop increasing. She knew, with a growing sense of dread, that the orcs would not tolerate the noise and she became more frantic.

“Quiet!” she hissed, as loud as she dared. The children were almost instantly silent. So were the orcs. Dread washed over Biba's body as if someone had poured a bucket of icy water down her spine. Then there was snarls and shrieks and garbled shouts of combined Westron and Black Speech.

Bilba snapped her neck towards the orcs and noticed the ugly sneer on the largest one. The leader. He was pale with ugly scars and metal embedded in his filthy skin. He went by the name of Bolg. He stood from his lonely corner, for all of the other spawns were afraid of the monster, and made his way towards the small huddle of humanity.

Bilba hurriedly placed herself in front of the younglings. Her intent being to face the beast on her own, so she was surprised to feel someone step beside her. She watched as Kili thrust his shoulders back and raise his head in an attempt to look confident. She tried to kick him discreetly, so he would get back behind her, but he only shook his head, sharply.

Bolg was looming over them now, and he cackled at, what Bilba had to admit was, a pretty pathetic pair. His despicable laughter was followed by the sound of numerous shouts of excitement, itching for a fight.

“You think that you can defeat me?” he snarled, his face distorting as he spat the words in Westron. Bilba had already started to bow when Kili’s voice echoed through the clearing,

“I know we can”

His voice was filled with hope and certainty, and for one fleeting moment, she believed him. However, she was older than him, not untouched by the unfairness of the world. She knew she would have to step in to try and appease the wretched monstrosity which stood in front of them and save them. Or at least him.

A quiet came over the beings in the area, after his foolhardy comment. Not a peaceful one but a tense and building one. One that was cold, smothering and deafening. Bilba cut through it as smoothly as she could,

“I’m sorry my Lord, we did not mean to make such noise.” she said, proud that her voice only wavered slightly. She gestured at Kili, “He did not mean what he said, for he is just a simple boy, and I would most graciously take his punishment!” her voice took on a desperate edge at the end and she was pinching Kili as hard (and as cautiously) as she could. She tried to ignore the disgruntled look on Kili's face at 'simple'. She pleaded, silently, that he would not try anything else foolish. Her heart pounded and she felt sweat trail down her spine like tiny shards of ice. If it was possible, Bolg’s scowl got worse.

“You are not unknown in this camp you insolent girl, you will not carry on protecting the rest of the scum anymore” his pale face was twisted and his foul teeth were bared. Then, as if a wondrous idea had passed through his mind, the orc's face lifted into a menacing grin. It was an odd expression to see on an orc, Bilba would think later, but, in the moment, she was terrified. He started growling with glee,

“You have protected them for far too long and you’re the reason they still show resistance to us. You are the reason we have not returned to my Master. Break you, we break them.”

Bilba's heart sank, although it was a wonder they had not figured it out sooner. It was a funny feeling, knowing you were going to die, Bilba thought, dazed. Everything around her seemed to slow down; Bolg laughing maniacally, while the children were restrained and shoved in cages. Kili was putting up a tremendous fight, though Bilba could not comprehend what he was shouting with such a desperate look on his young face. Bolg efficiently kicked her legs from beneath her and she fell on to her stomach onto the rocky ground with a sickening thud. Her breath was well and truly pushed out of her.

“Hold her down boys!” Bolg shouted, as joyfully as an orc could. Claws and gnarled hands grabbed her limbs and pulled them taut, no matter how much she struggled, she knew she that she would not be escaping. Her skin was crawling from the hot, rancid breath falling upon her. “Get the brand!” another shout from Bolg, which was immediately followed by excited shrieks. A fire was beginning to crackle nearby and suddenly it all made sense. She was going to have the Master's Mark. She had only ever seen it once and it was now a part of her nightmares. She was forced to watch as Lillian, a tiny six-year-old, that had tried to escape the camp had been held down and had been given the horrific mark. No matter what Bilba had done in the days that had followed prevented the little girl from getting a horrific infection and dying from the shock of it.

A sharp, jagged claw ripped the shoulder from her already torn dress, not caring that they had broken her skin in the process.  
She focussed on numbing her mind and turned her head, as well as she could, towards the children. Her heart swelled and broke all at once to see how much they fought for her, throwing themselves against the bars of the cages. Frightened faces held tears which ran freely, leaving clean tracks on their otherwise dusty faces. Kili was shouting, cursing and crying, perhaps fighting the hardest.

She felt an aura of burning heat hovering just above her right shoulder and she knew it was time. She sucked in a lungful of air and called with all her might, directing her yell towards the children:

“I Love you”

The sound of sizzling flesh reached her ears before any pain.

A bright burning light flashed through her mind.

Then, oblivion.


	2. Strange Dwarf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is there a rescue on the way for Miss Bilba Baggins?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I hope you like the next installment of Bilba's tale. I have certainly liked writing it! I'm still learning this whole writing thing so I hope this isn't too terrible to read! This also means that there may be a few mistakes so please help me to correct them :)

Searing pain.

Comprehending anything else was near impossible.

Bilba felt herself shaking uncontrollably. The ground she laid on was the only blessedly cool thing in the flaming hell she had awoken in.

Perhaps it was the shouts and screams from various creatures in the area, or it simply could have been the pain, but her eyelids started to flutter against her pale and gaunt cheeks. The first thing she saw was a rather inconsequential rock. It was not very large but it had sharp, jagged edges. A weapon.

Her eyes roamed the area, seeking Bolg. She peeked suspiciously at the numerous orcs surrounding her, why were they not prolonging the punishment? What were they looking at?

Because they certainly were not looking at Bilba Baggins and, with relief, she noted their eyes were not on the children. From what she could see from the ground, there was a fight being held on the other side of the clearing. What was noteworthy about this particular fight was the fact that Bolg was involved in it. Bolg was a brutish and despicable but he clearly wasn’t as dim-witted as those that followed him. In fact, as the clear leader of the group, he was usually the one to break up the conflicts to keep order, or as much as you can with a band of horrid orcs.

While their attention was elsewhere, Bilba took the opportunity to slip the rock into her hand.

Biba also took the chance to turn her head to the children.

Many were still hammering and throwing themselves on the bars of their cages, some were transfixed on the fight and a fair few were simply sitting, despondent. Kili, Bilba realised, was the only one who had noticed her open eyes and he was staring at her with such hope that tears gathered underneath her lashes. He was locked in the smallest cage there was, one used to separate and punish the young ones with isolation. His shoulders were hunched and his back was bent, as the height of the cage he sat in was unforgiving on his growing body. The other children, the more ‘obedient’ ones, had been shoved in the largest cage together; which was one comfort at least.

Bilba was about to start crawling towards the cages when movement in the forest to her left caught her eye. She turned her head as quickly as she could without drawing attention from the nearest orcs, her hand tightened on the rock in her clammy palm. She was shocked to see that eyes were gazing out at the clearing she was in the centre of. They were sharp and assessing. Bilba squinted at them, confusion sweeping into her pain addled head, trying to see who the eyes belonged to, for they were not the ones of a monster. The eyes swept over her, and when their gazes met, both she and the eyes froze.

The mysterious eyes widened, fractionally, when the owner they belonged to noticed her perplexed gaze. Fearfully, clearly thinking the same thing, they glanced at the orcs nearest to her, assessing them carefully to see if they had noticed their silent exchange. Then, evidently coming to some sort of conclusion, the top half of a man emerged from the bush, silent as a shadow.

The man, no dwarf, she corrected herself belatedly, was unusual. He had red hair which was styled into three points. His features were angular and sharp, though the laugh lines which framed his eyes softened them. His eyes were intense with stress and worry yet they still held an element of calm.

Bilba was not concerned that the dwarf would further her pain. She was also not concerned about the children. This was because she had realised, with a dreadful feeling in her stomach, that he looked awfully like one of the faunts. The dwarf was here to save a child. Luckily, the orcs had their interest grabbed but she knew that as soon as he was noticed, he was going to die.

She shook her head at him, desperately, for his plan was surely going to be complete suicide. He was obviously a panicked relative with a foolhardy plan stuck in his head. She could not bear to see another face fall to the bony fingers of fate.

Instead of rushing out of the trees (like she expected) a hand lifted and he raised one finger to his lips, in a hushing motion. The strange dwarf smirked and with a wink, he slowly dissolved back into the forest, disappearing from sight.

If the orcs were not so concerned with the fight they would have noticed Bilba gaping at the darkness of the trees. Luckily, they didn’t. Bilba’s mind crawled with possibilities. Her mind reached and spun in all directions, following paths and trails, but they all lead to the same thing. Dead ends. She couldn’t figure him out, what was happening?

The dwarf didn’t allow this question to be unanswered for long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!! Any critique is welcome, and I sincerely hope you didn't hate this :))


	3. Heroic Acts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilba now truly feels that escape is possible and hope is flowing through her veins. But will a heroic act stop her from the freedom she so sorely wants?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy the next chapter in Bilba's journey! Please let me know what you think in the comments, I really do want to make sure that I am always improving so please feel free to point out any mistakes! Thanks :)

Careful movement caught Bilba’s eye and her confusion doubled. The orcs were still distracted, unsurprisingly, and Bolg’s roar was only getting louder, so they had not noticed the obvious rustle of creatures moving through undergrowth. If Bilba had to guess at the species of said creatures, she’d put all of her gold on dwarf.

Her heart started beating wildly and it soared with a hope she had never experienced before. The dwarf was not some foolhardy idiot, he was a scout. They were going to be saved.

Bilba held the rock she had discovered tightly, she knew she could at least try to be helpful. Her eyes scanned the woodlands obsessively, desperately looking for signs of life. The dwarrow were surprising quiet, although the odd whisper of cloth meeting tree could still be heard, every once and a while.

Bilba was shaking ,excitedly in anticipation, and she attempted to ignore the fact that her wounds were complaining at the jittery movements. In this moment, she felt she could do anything. However, nothing could have prepared her for the numerous eyes that suddenly loomed from the darkness, staring into the clearing. They almost made her jump out of her skin due to the suddenness of their appearance.

Her heart began to pound in anticipation and her breath came out in short, nervous puffs. She looked over at the children, wondering if they had noticed. Only one was looking around in awe and, when Bilba’s stare caught Kili’s eye, a wide, optimistic grin lit up his face. It was obviously contagious as Bilba felt herself smile despite the split in her lip.

A loud shout, in a language Bilba didn’t understand, echoed through the clearing. The orcs looked up from their scuffle in shock, their disfigured jaws gaping open. They had no time to react. Dwarrow leapt from their hiding spots and in a blink, five of the monsters were dead. A livid shout from Bolg rang clear above the overwhelming noise, causing the orcs to fly for their weapons, while disturbing screeches of excitement left their repulsive mouths. 

Chaos.

There was no other word to describe the fray that was going on around her.

Dwarrow and orcs alike were coming far too close to trampling her tired body. She rolled from blows and crawled away from large feet, as she started an attempt to crawl towards the caged children. All of them were on their feet, adding their screams of fear and excitement to the tumultuous noise. Dwarrow had begun to place themselves in front of the cages of younglings, forming a protective barrier. It was a horrific sight watching the orcs rallying against the force of good so ferociously. Bilba had believed she’d seen the orcs at their worst, so watching the orcs fight with such cruelty and brutality, sickened her.

Bilba was halfway to the cages when she noticed the dwarf with the pointed hair. He was very light on his feet and his attacks were rapid and precise. Bilba watched him in horrified wonder as he sliced through throats with careful ease and moved with terrifying grace. Between blows, his eyes roamed the battle carefully, until they fell on her and her pathetic attempts at moving. 

A troubled look appeared on his face as he started to make his way towards her wilted form. Before she could question why, the dwarf was beside her, hands hovering, unsure, over her. His first act was to cut the rope from her wrists.  
“We got to get her out of here” he yelled, to another dwarf she hadn’t realised was with him.  
He had white, intricately braided hair and, as he glanced at her, she noticed the worry in his eyes and the determined set of his jaw. He had clearly taken a protective stance in front of them, warding off potential threats. 

“I’ve got her”

Abruptly, she was grabbed and her world shifted. A scream forced its way out of her mouth, as the hands that held her tightened over her injuries. Her breath came out in short gasps and darkness threatened her vision. She fought unconsciousness, very aware that she needed to be able to protect herself if she was left alone again. As the darkness started to dissipate, she heard the soft hushing noises and calming words coming from the white-haired dwarf that was cradling her.

The softness of his words was the opposite of what anyone would expect from a dwarf, and Bilba would have laughed if her breath was easier to catch. All she could do was stare, dumbly, at the gentle eyes that stared into hers.  
“Hurry up Dori! If you don’t shut up and focus on your surroundings, we’ll all die” the snarled words from the redhead startled them both.  
Dori (at least she knew one of their names now) huffed, but nodded in agreement. He patted her arm gently, albeit a little awkwardly (given their position), and they began manoeuvring through the fight. With relief, she realised that the redhead was carving a pathway towards the children.

He sliced, ducked and pierced through flesh, protecting them both. Everything was going in the right direction.

Until it wasn’t.

They never made it to the children.

Bilba watched with silent dread as a rock soared through the air and, before she could shout in warning, it struck Dori in the head with a sickening thud. Her world was turned upside down as her body met the ground. Shortly after the weight of Dori collapsed on top of her, pushing all the air out of her lungs. She heard the dreadful crack before she felt it. The pain burned and it felt as if someone had thrown her body into her fireplace in Bag End. She felt like she couldn’t breathe. She desperately searched for help and, thankfully, found it when the redhead’s horrified face filtered into her vision. He skidded on his knees and lifted Dori from her.

Delicious air filled her lungs, her eyes began to clear of the fog that she hadn’t even realised had appeared. This meant she had a clear view of the figure rapidly approaching the dwarfs back.  
“No!” Bilba croaked, dismayed, “Behind you!”  
The dwarf didn’t have time to look behind him before Bolg had thrown him into the nearest tree. He slumped, unmoving, against the bark and his head dropped against his chest. Despair rushed through her. She tore her eyes from her fallen rescuer and looked up at the vicious smile on the pale orc’s face.  
“I couldn’t have them taking my new favourite toy” he snarled, as he reached down to seize her.  
She closed her eyes in tired resignation. She knew her fate.

“Bolg!”

Bilba opened her eyes in surprise, as a confident voice rang through her ears. The clear call of his name, caused Bolg’s arm to freeze, halfway to her neck. His head twisted to face the dwarf that had stopped him. The dwarf held his head high and he stood with an aura of assurance. Piercing blue eyes blazed with an incomparable anger and the grip he had on the swords he held was strong. Bolg’s sinister smile widened,

“What do you want little Durin?” he growled.

Although she did not know what a Durin was, Bilba could sense the importance of the word.

“I want vengeance,” the dwarf roared, sending fear to her core, despite not being the target of his wrath. His hair was whipping the wind around him, as if emphasising his fury.

Bolg cackled. He raised his dreadful mace and he began to take long strides towards the young dwarf, quickly covering the land between them. Terror kept Bilba’s gaze fixed on the fight, watching as the dwarf deflected the first blow. Hits were taken and defended on both sides and, as the fight lasted longer and longer, Bolg quickly lost his wicked smile, and began to develop a chilling scowl.

The dwarf’s cocky smile never weakened, but she could see that his body did. Attacks became fewer and far between and his defences were beginning to slow in exhaustion. Bilba’s newfound hope began do flicker, like a match at the end of its short life. 

Bilba watched as one of Bolg’s blows was too much for the brave dwarf. The fear she felt when the dwarf hit the floor, clutching his arm in obvious pain, was indescribable. He screamed in agony and his face drained of colour. One of his swords had been thrown from his side, just out of reach, while his other sword was held in a weary and panicky grip. Bolg's hateful laugh shot a chill through Bilba’s heart. He raised his mace and the dwarf raised his sword in a shaky grip, one not able to withstand the force of Bolg’s madness.

Time slowed.

A sudden surge of strength flowed through her veins and she found herself standing up.

The grip on the rock in her hand drew blood; she had no idea how she had kept it for so long.

Her legs were moving, forcing her forwards.

Screams left her mouth as she stood in front of the dwarf, her arm raised as she pushed the sharp end of her rock into Bolg’s face.

The mace connected to her side.

Nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm honestly loving writing this. I feel like I haven't written something creative in so long so this is such a refreshing change for me! I hope you are enjoying the experience just as much as me :)  
> Thanks for reading!!


	4. Waking Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilba is waking up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, despite rumours, I'm very much still here and writing! Thanks for taking the time to read (:

Floating. She felt as if she was upon a cloud, slowly drifting through an endless night. The darkness felt smothering though, and surrounded her completely, trapping her into a land of dark peace. The calmness of this realm lead her to not feel the fear that she probably should feel. 

Tendrils of awareness lazily crawled through her mind. She could feel the warmth of multiple blankets piled on top of her, which almost sent the tendrils back to sleep. Stopping her from being swallowed from the black void, was the sound of movement; heavy boots, gruff voices and the crackling of a fire had her muddled mind, well, even more muddled. Where on earth was she?

Her eyes felt as if someone had poured grit into them. It was a difficult task but she managed to crack them open slowly. The world that welcomed her was a confusing blur. The light assaulted her first, blinding her, already sore, eyes. She must have made some sort of noise for a dark shadow suddenly obscured the burning daylight.

Terror encased her being as a large hand reached for her. She lashed out. Ignoring the agonising pain that flowed through her, she kicked and punched at the figure reaching for her. Loud voices only fuelled her disordered mind, she could not bring herself to focus on their words. Hands were grabbing her limbs and she could feel her skin crawling in horror, setting her body alight in pain. Her throat was raw with her manic screams.

Then, smaller hands held her face and the loud and gruff voices that were surrounding her quietened. A gentle voice replaced them.

It took her a while to focus on the chanted words, but they slowly sunk through her terrified defences in her mind.

“Bilba. Bilba. Bilba. Bilba. Bilba.”

She blinked carefully, clearing her misty vision further. The first thing she could see was a bright smile, and the next, midnight hair.

Kili.

An older dwarf sat beside her also, he had dark grey hair with long thick braids, which curled at the end. She realised that, her thought-to-be attacker, was him. Shame bubbled up inside her, but his face was kind and he did not appear to be too phased by her erratic flailing, in fact, he was in the middle of giving Kili an approving look. She’d deal with apologies later.

Turning her gaze back to Kili, who was practically on top of her, only fuelled his excited smile. She returned it, gently, and it looked as if he might burst with pent up energy.

“I’m so glad you’re awake Bilba! I was so scared that you wouldn’t.” he rushed, ending by engulfing her in a hug that, despite his enthusiasm, managed to be careful.

Bilba patted his back comfortingly, “I would never leave you Kili,” she then trailed off when a terrible thought came to the front of her mind, “Where are the rest of you?”. She was mortified that she had not thought of them before then, but she blamed it on the fuzziness of her own mind. She was panicking.

She was gripping his coat with an iron-like grip and she was trembling. He was trying to pull her off and calm her erratic breathing. Her ears were ringing and she could feel the pull of unconsciousness. Kili’s face morphed to a more frightened expression, one that highlighted his youth, his lips were moving but it was as if she were underwater. Before the darkness swallowed her whole, the older dwarf (which, if Bilba was honest, she had completely forgotten about) removed Kili from her side. The dwarf, who was now rubbing her arm in a comforting manner, was talking, and she forced herself to listen to what he was saying.

“They’re safe. You’re safe. No one, not you or the children, will come to harm here. I’m a healer, everything is going to be okay now. Breathe for me lass.” despite the gruffness of his voice, the words were almost hypnotising as he repeated them over and over. The assurances looped and swirled in her mind until she felt well enough to take a proper breath.

The darkness slowly receded after each calming breath. The older dwarf was smiling softly down at her, while he gently held her cold, shaking hands, warming them.

“Thank you.” she rasped, after finally pulling her frayed emotions together.

He nodded and from his position, kneeling at her side, he bowed, “Oin, son of Gróin, Head Healer, at your service Miss Baggins.”

“Just Bilba please, and I am also at your service,” she responded, automatically, then, remembering the reasoning behind her upset, she added, “Where are they?” 

Kili suddenly jumped back into her line of sight, causing her to jump and then groan in pain. He gave her a sheepish smile as he got a stern look Oin. Instead of being deterred, he just took her hands from the healer and gave them a comforting squeeze.

“None of us were hurt Bilba! They, and the less injured of our warriors have gone on ahead, so we can begin to send messages to their families.” Bilba’s heart stuttered at the thought of not seeing them again, even though she knew that, in reality, they had families that must miss them terribly. Kili didn’t seem to notice her inner turmoil, as he continued, “While some of our finest warriors are with us to help the more injured get home.”

Satisfied with that answer, she smiled fondly as Kili puffed out his chest in pride, as he talked of the dwarrow warriors. Bilba finally took the time to take in her surroundings. She was in a tent of sorts, clearly constructed for temporary use, surrounded by many empty bedrolls. Only a few had occupants, some had concerned visitors leaning over them, wiping brows and holding hands. She realised that the footsteps she had heard earlier must be those of the three healers moving between the makeshift beds and tending to the injured.

She was about to turn back to Kili and Oin when a flash of red caught her attention. With a gasp she lurched upwards, memories of the red headed dwarf flashing through her mind. Pain caused her vision to go white, and she could hear herself crying in agony. Two pairs of hands, one small one large, were gently, yet firmly, pushing her back to her bedroll. Vision clearing, the first thing she saw was the stern face of Oin.

“Now, what do you think you’re doing lass? Those ribs certainly do not need any more excitement. It’s bed rest until I say so Miss Bilba.” Oin barked, his concerned tone ruining the overall sternness of his words.

Bilba ignored the question entirely, too focussed on the dwarf opposite her. She shakily removed her arm from the blankets and pointed at the red head. “That dwarf,” both Oin and Kili turned, “Will he be okay?”

“Nori?” Kili questioned, “How on earth do you know him Bilba?” His baffled expression would have been comical if she hadn’t been so utterly serious.

Oin smacked the back of Kili’s head, making him yelp, a look of exasperation on his face. “You could answer the poor lass instead of leaving her scared,” he turned to Bilba, expression softening, “He should be fine. He took a hit to his noggin a little too hard and his ribs aren’t loving him right now, but overall, he’s been lucky.”

A breath she hadn’t realised she was holding, released. Exhaustion flooded her being, and her eyes began to droop, involuntarily. She had not been awake for long but it felt as if it had been an age.

“You sleep now, lass. Best medicine is rest,” he told her, wisely. He began to lift himself from her side, but she gripped his arm.

“But wait, what of another dwarf?” she, paused, memories flooding her overwhelmingly, “Dori, he helped me too! And another, a blonde, will he be okay too?” her speech was slurred with sleep, but still rushed and urgent.

A warm smile from Oin put her at ease. “You live up to your name lass. I know of who you speak and apart from a few bumps, they are perfectly alright,” his expression became serious, “Now rest, you have some important dwarrow to meet when you awaken next.”

He left, his ominous words swirling round her. Kili took her hand then, softly. “I hope your dreams are peaceful Bilba. I will be here when you next awake,” he told her, surely. Pride swelled up inside her, for Kili, despite his young age and spirit, had the heart of someone twice his years. But, perhaps, the brashness of someone younger.

Feeling safer than she had in a long time, Bilba drifted off, a calm smile gracing her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! First things first, I'd like to say a massive thanks to all the lovely comments and the kudos I have received. I have never written anything like this before, especially something this long, so the support I have been given has been truly wonderful.
> 
> I'd also like to apologise for how long it's been since last posting. I have had a lot of physical problems with my back and spine so doing anything, including writing has been difficult. So, don't think my absence has been me giving up on this story! I'm hoping to finish this, I promise.
> 
> As always, please let me know of any mistakes you spot!
> 
> Thanks again (:


	5. Meeting a King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilba awakens again and meets a dwarven king.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> Yes, I'm alive, shocker I know. Sorry for the long wait, friends, I hope you enjoy this new chapter!

Waking up for the second time was a lot easier. Initially though, her heart started to beat quickly, the thought of everything being a dream filtering through her hazy, panicked mind. The sound of soft, gentle voices caused her poor heart to settle. Apart from that little bit of drama, Bilba only felt stiff and, yes, although she ached fiercely, it was a wonderful feeling to wake to the sense of being safe. Opening her eyes, slowly, the first thing she noticed was Kili, who was sitting next to where she was lying, chatting quietly to one of her other younglings, Ori. Ori was writing in a small journal, nodding every so often and scribbling notes on whatever Kili was chattering on about. They were completely oblivious to her open eyes. Ori was a sweet boy with an overwhelming thirst for knowledge. Being captured had dulled his enthusiastic interest in the world around him, but by no means had it crushed it. Bilba remembered whispering tales of hobbits to him on the days when he would come to her, nearly sobbing, when the horrors of the orcs particularly haunted him. The distraction was a wonderful ploy on Bilba’s part as she could see the light return to his eyes and could almost witness him filing the knowledge away in his mind for later. She also got a chance to remember the peace of the Shire, as bittersweet as the thought of it was.

“What have you got there?” Bilba asked, softly, surprised at the grittiness of her voice.

Both boys jumped, startled by her wakefulness. With fondness, she watched as Ori scrambled for a jug of water, while Kili dove for her hand. Kili lifted her gently and helped her into a sitting position, earning him a slight hiss of pain, while Ori practically shoved a cup to her dry, cracked lips. The cool liquid which slipped down her throat felt positively wonderful. She could not remember the last time she had water this clean.

With her throat quenched and having thanked them for their help, she gestured at the book in Ori’s hands, reminding them of her question. Before poor Ori could even begin to explain, Kili jumped in:  
“Ori is writing about what happened when we were captured and it’s brilliant! He just has to interview everyone, so he can get all of the perspectives,” he finished, tripping over his word in his excitement.

“I’m sure Ori still has a voice, Kili,” she chastised, gently.

Sheepishly, Kili looked down and turned his head to Ori as if inviting him to speak. Bilba reached for Kili’s hand and squeezed it slightly to reassure him that she wasn’t truly cross with him. She then nodded kindly at Ori, urging him to continue the explanation, while he clutched the leather-bound journal to his chest, nervously.   
“Well Miss Bilba, as I’ve told you I’ve always wanted to be a Master Scribe. Writing a chronicle of our ordeal will surely not go unnoticed and may open new doors for me, I’ve already had interest in my work from Master Balin himself. He’s not a scribe though really, more of an adviser, but having the favour from the adviser of the King will be without question a benefit.” ‘Ori babbled, ecstatically, as if the ordeal he was writing about was merely fiction.

Bilba grinned, genuinely pleased for the young dwarf, despite knowing that she would not have the strength to write down her experience like him. No, she would stick to reading it.

“I cannot wait to read it myself, Ori, I’m sure the scribes back at your mountain will all be itching to read it,” 

Ori blushed and puffed up his chest, importantly.  
“Of course, I still need to interview you Bilba, you’re probably going to be a huge part of it, so I definitely want to know your thoughts,” he paused, frowning, before adding: “Though Dori told me not to bother you until you’re better.” He finished, twisting his fingers in his jumper.

She would ask after Dori later, Bilba decided, remembering vaguely that Oin had told her that he was okay. What Bilba was most concerned about, however, was the fact that he believed she would be a significant part of his chronicle. 

“Will I truly be in your book Ori? I’m hardly a fierce dwarfish warrior, I don’t think the other dwarrow will appreciate it if I’m in it a lot.” Bilba said, looking downwards, knowing that, really, she was not anything special to write home about. She had done whatever any other adult would have done faced with the terrified faces of faunts.

She glanced up to have to tweens looking at her in complete shock. 

“Are you joking?”  
“Bilba you’re a hero!”

Both Ori and Kili talked over each other. They glanced at one another and Kili continued,  
“You’re the reason we all survived Bilba, I know I wouldn’t have been able to continue without you,” Kili told her, earnestly, while Ori nodded furiously.  
She snorted, rolling her eyes at the dramatics of children,

“Oh, what a load of hogwash. You put too much credit on my shoulders boys. You’re both strong lads, you’d have been able to make it without me,” Bilba replied, frowning slightly at their flabbergasted expressions.

In a rare show of unwavering confidence, Ori spoke up;  
“Bilba Baggins, you listen to me. Without you we would have all lost hope and to bring that to everyone, while we were surrounded by such grim prospects, is the most beautiful gift you could have given any of us. And if that doesn’t make you a hero, the battle certainly does.”

His speech held such a sense of certainty she felt herself blinking back tears. So distracted was she by the keen expressions on their faces, she had not noticed the newcomer to their small group. In fact, she didn’t even get to ask then about the battle like she wanted to as, really, the memories felt rather hazy and what she did remember terrified her.

“He’s right you know,” the stranger said, kindly.

Although the voice was soft, Bilba jumped, utterly startled, then groaned from the pain the jostling had caused. She turned to face the stranger to ask them who they thought they were, surprising an innocent hobbit like that, when she froze. Cloudy memories suddenly came into focus; it was Dori, the dwarf who had held her in battle and had fallen so suddenly. It was wonderful to see him, safe and whole (apart from a bandage around his head). 

‘Dori.” she heard Ori hiss, scolding the older dwarf.

That is when it all clicked into place for Bilba, her mind finally catching up with the world. The dwarrow that had tried to help her were Ori’s brothers. She remembered on one of the few opportunities she had to talk to Ori on his own, he had often talked fondly of his brothers, Dori and Nori, and had missed them fervently. Really, it should have clicked straight away, the fact that the brothers had the dwarfish fashion of their names being similar should have given it away, quite obviously. She did let herself off the hook though, as she did have a lot of children telling her about their families on a near daily basis for months.

“Dori,” she said, dumbly, shocked.

Dori smiled, softly, and gave a low, respectful bow.  
“I am glad you remember me, My Lady,” one glance towards a glaring Ori had him adding; “and of course, I apologise for aggravating your wounds.” He finished politely. 

“It’s Bilba,” she said, not really concentrating, her mind racing over the details of the battle, “How is your brother?” she asked, hurriedly, remembering the red head from her last awakening.

Dori’s smile grew, “You certainly live up to the tales of you, Miss Bilba. He is doing fine, thank you for the concern, but nothing can keep Nori down, even orders of bed rest,” he moaned, causing Bilba to giggle softly, remembering her Took cousins and the mischief they would get tangled up in. Sometimes Bilba wondered if they understood what the meaning of bedrest was. 

Alarm bells went off in her head at the idea that there was any sort of ‘tales’ about her.

The young dwarrow smiled, delighted by the sound of her laughter.

Before the two dwarflings could jump back into convincing her of her worth to them, Dori had raised a disappointed eyebrow at the pair. Both boys shrunk away from it, and Bilba wondered how long it had taken Dori to master the technique.

“Now, didn’t our King ask you to inform him of when Miss Bilba next awakens?” Dori asked, primly.

“Yes, Dori,” both boys muttered, heads down, much to Bilba’s amusement. 

“What was that?” Dori snapped, sharply.

“Yes, Dori!” they repeated, much loudly, straightening.

“Well hop to it then, before I let him know you didn’t get him straight away,” he commanded, sternly.

Kili gaped at him, like a fish out of water, “You wouldn’t?”

The eyebrow had both of them scrambling over each other to get up, causing Bilba to laugh, clutching her ribs in pain yet feeling much more alive than she had in a long time. It was so freeing.

“Bring Oin while you’re at it, he will want to see his patient I should think!” Dori yelled at the retreating backs.

A muffled “Yes Dori,” was the only indication that he was heard, as the entrance to he tent had already flapped shut.

Dori sighed, and shook his head at the antics. Meanwhile, the meaning of his words were only just slowly beginning to sink in. A king. A king wanted to see her, Bilba Baggins of the Shire. Something did not seem to add up.

“Your King wanted to see me?” she asked, incredulously, “Why in the world would he wish to see me?”

Dori looked at her with a perfect mix of incredulity and exasperation, “You have done a lot for those children, Miss Bilba. Not to mention what you did in that battle. Although both Ori and Kili can get excitable, they were not lying; you are a hero Bilba Baggins.”

“I can barely remember what happened in the battle. I’m just a Hobbit.” Bilba whispered, eyes dazed.

Before Dori could respond, the tent’s entrance flew open dramatically.

A large imposing dwarf began striding towards where she lay, flanked by two others yet she only had eyes for him. His presence commanded attention and caused her to instinctually shrink back. Knowing there was little chance that she was actually going to come to harm, she forced herself to relax. The dwarf had come to a stop in front of her and before she knew it, he was on one knee. His hair was like raven feathers, black as coal yet sometimes inexplicably shifting to a deep blue in the flickering light of the candle lit tent. She made eye contact with the clearest blue eyes, which seemed oddly familiar, before the dwarf lowered his head. Bilba realised that if this was the leader of the dwarrow, then being bowed at was probably a pretty big deal. She hoped he could not hear a breath quickening.

“I am Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, at yours and your families service,” he paused, this dwarf clearly had a flare for the dramatics, “and I must begin by giving you my thanks, My Lady, for protecting my dwarrow where I could not. Ask for anything and I will do everything in my power to fulfil your wishes” he continued, with a solemn air of authority.

Bilba honestly was at a loss. He looked so very serious and sincere, Bilba supposed that being a king must be a terrible burden to shoulder, and although she was sure it was very improper to lay hands on the King, she reached out and gently patted his hand. Clearly startled, Thorin quickly whipped his gaze to hers, questioningly.

“I only did what anyone else would have done, I did not do this for reward and I do not need your thanks. In fact, I should be giving you and your dwarrow my thanks for healing me and for letting me stay,” she told him, quite firmly. She felt quite guilty and knew it was terribly rude to turn down a gift, but she could not help but be honest.

The astonishment on his face was slightly comical, and Bilba almost began to laugh, but glancing around the tent reminded her about how serious dwarrow could be, even their younglings. She had not realised that she had gathered such an audience until she had looked up. 

“Miss Baggins,” he started, but paused, hesitantly, clearly unsure of how to continue. “I insist you ask for something, I will not have it be said that we dwarrow do not reward the worthy,” he finished, resolutely. His head was raised in dwarven pride and his jaw was set stubbornly, rather reminiscently of Kili. Bilba resisted rolling her eyes at him and came to the realisation that the dwarrow’s prideful stubbornness was not just a trait that their children grew out of.

Knowing that rejecting a gift a second time was the peak of rudeness, Bilba began to seriously contemplate the offer. She was a Hobbit, and a relatively well-off one at that, so she had no desire for gold or pretty trinkets. The only thing she desired now was to see her children. Although, she supposed they were not really hers anymore.  
Perhaps there was something then.

“May I journey with you to the Blue Mountains? I would like to say goodbye to the children if I can,” she asked, genuinely.

The tent was hushed. Those who were pretending to not listen in on their conversation had dropped the façade entirely. Thorin was watching her with a carefully composed expression and as the seconds ticked by, it began to make her nervous. Shuffling nervously in the silence, Bilba added jokingly:

“A cup of tea would not go amiss too.”

Kili snorted, easing her building nerves, and the break in the silence had everyone turning back to their tasks. Thorin’s lip quirked up into a brief show of amusement, though his eyes spoke of bewilderment.

“It would be an honour to bring you to our home.” Thorin proclaimed.

“The honour is all mine,” Bilba said, shyly.

A true smile formed on Thorin’s face. Turning to Dori he said,

“Now let’s get the Shamrûnayusullu a cup of tea!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to add an apology for taking so long with this chapter! My disability has really put a hold on things I love to do, like writing, and I felt like I couldn't justify my hobbies when I had work to get done.  
> So I'm ever so sorry this has taken so long, and I hope you enjoy this new chapter.  
> Any and all comments are welcome (:


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